


Don’t Forget to Smile

by Zer0PM



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Angst, Brilliance, Comedy, F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gotham City - Freeform, Imagines, Joker - Freeform, Madness, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Psychological Trauma, Rating may change if I write more, Romance, Spoilers, Tragedy, Understanding, and needed to write about it, corrupt society, fell in love with it, saw the movie twice, watch the movie first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-12-09 00:42:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zer0PM/pseuds/Zer0PM
Summary: Collection of imagines and drabbles based on Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker.  Enjoy and put on a happy face :)





	1. Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to write this. I haven’t been this inspired to write again since my DMC V series and give my heartfelt kudos to Phoenix for his outstanding portrayal. He’s definitely up there with Ledger for bringing out a Joker that I would love to see again and again on the big screen. 
> 
> Please enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine catching Arthur Fleck dancing as he makes his way to the steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite scenes in the movie. I bet if Arthur wanted to, he probably woulda made a career as a dancer. Aha.

You were one of his neighbors, have always seen him as you passed by each other. Usually, the man would have his head down, the wave on his dark locks casting a shadow over his baggy eyes. He would be the picture of sadness, loneliness, and hopelessness. Right now, however, was different. **Very** different.

He was dancing. Exuding jubilance and confidence you’ve never seen. And admittedly he was quite good at it too. As if the makeup and strange assortment of colors for wear weren’t the first things you noticed. You actually wondered** how **you recognized him. Clearly, this was a completely different person, but your instincts told you otherwise and you couldn’t shake off the desire to be sure.

You: “Arthur?”

The sound of his name, he turned his head in a snap, completely pulled away from his own world. He cursed, called your name in recognition, and cursed again. The latter from when he nearly stumbled off the steps and in a frantic heartbeat, you reached out and caught him by the sleeve. When you help him regain his balance, he clears his throat and smooths out the wrinkles on his vest.

Arthur: “H-Hi.”

You: “Hi. Where are you off to?”

Arthur: “Ah, I’m uh…I’m heading to the studio. Murray Franklin’s studio. I’m going to be on tv.”

You: “Oh, that sounds nice. Guessing you’ll be doing some stand-up for him?”

Arthur: “Yeah, yeah. _It’ll be a show worth dying for…_”

That moment felt like a beat dropped. The way he dragged out that last sentence, he almost sounded…nervous? No. That wasn’t the right word, but you surmised that he must be due to how one of his legs was fidgeting like an itch that wouldn’t go away. You decided then to offer him support and smiled.

You: “You’re going to do great.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at your face, the way your lips turned up, the gleam of your teeth, and the bright mood in your eyes. Although a red smile was painted over his mouth and cheeks, Arthur was in awe.

You: “….You okay?”

He blinks, shaking his head before laughing. It started as a chuckle, then exploded to fits of joyous bouts. You can hear the scratches upon his throat with each boom of his voice filling the air around you. You knew he was prone to these fits. Each time before, he looked as if he was in pain, ashamed of…”his condition” as his cards called it. But here, right now, as he stood before you, it was like he was finally letting it all out and enjoying it as well. The sound was infectious and you couldn’t help but join in. To others passing by, you two seemed an odd pair. When he eventually calms down, he surprises you again with a rare smile of his own. It was actually quite a nice one.

Arthur: “Never better. Thank you.”

You: “Aha. I just noticed you dyed your hair.”

Arthur: “Yeah. Part of my new gimmick. Do you…like it?”

You: “It’s different. **Bold**. Something I never would’ve expected.”

Arthur: “Oh…”

You: “I like it a lot. Green looks good on you.”

Arthur: “Oh? Really?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up at your approval to his appearance. A few more heartfelt moments, a few more genuine laughs pass between you two before he had to dismiss himself to make the next train. It was the most you two have ever spoken to each other, and you found that you liked his company. Before he seemed unapproachable with his shy and awkward demeanor, and while he’s still awkward, he doesn’t look nearly as lost, you thought. No, in fact, he looks like a man with a plan. And in a way, you felt a little proud to see it firsthand.

You: “Hey, Arthur.”

A few steps down and he stops again to look at you, his green eyes pointed to meet yours. He calls your name in turn, in question.

You: “You have some really nice moves, you know that?”

He doesn’t answer, only smiles. A toothy grin on, the man straightens his back, tugs the lapels of his suit jacket and continues his stride down the cement stairway. An extra pep in his step, dancing along to a tune that only he can hear, he descends further and further down, making a note that there wasn’t just **one** person that was ever nice to him. Despite what he plans to do, what he’s about to do, what’s going to happen because of him, he hopes you watch him on the screen and he imagines you smiling for him.


	2. Bus Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine you sitting next to Arthur Fleck on the bus ride home.

You: “Wait!!”

Luckily, your frantic waving caught the attention of the driver and the bus slows to a stop for you. The doors open and with a relieved huff, you climb on board.

Driver: “Whoa, almost missed you there!”

You: “I know! Ahaha, thanks so much.”

With a friendly smile and a nod, the bus driver directs you to take a seat wherever you can find one. Looks like almost all of the seats were taken. _Almost._ There was one, one empty spot right next to a gentleman who had his head against the window. He looked to be in deep thought and didn’t notice you as you approach him.

You: “Hi. Excuse me.”

The man jumps in his seat, twisting his head your way with wide-eyes. Apparently, he didn’t expect someone to talk to him. Typical behavior for the citizens of downtown Gotham. Avoid one another, if possible.

You: “Is this seat taken?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, possibly registering still that he was being spoken to before shaking his head and scooting in his seat.

Man: “No, go ahead.”

When he makes enough space, you took the invitation to sit down, settling in for the ride. You move to acknowledge his consideration for you but see that he’s already turning away, almost purposefully. His head is back against the window and his arms are crossed, posturing that he is keeping to himself once more. Noting the lonely frown on his face, you decided to shrug it off.

_Maybe he’s just having one of **those** days..._

You were about to mind yourself as well until you looked up and noticed that a small child at the seat in front of the man was staring at you both. His curious, cute little eyes looking back and forth between you two. You offered the kid a polite smile. He didn’t return it, instead he focuses on the man in front of him, studying his expression.

The man beside you seems to have felt eyes on him again as he tilts his head, spotting the child. Once their eyes made contact, the end of the kid’s lips dip to a low frown, puckering his bottom lip out as if mimicking the man’s depressed face. You had to hold back the laugh at how adorable he looked. The man didn’t seem at all offended by this, instead finding the child’s action innocently amusing. He straightens himself on his seat slightly, uncrossing his arms and bringing his hands flat in front of his face, hiding his expression. Inside, you smiled. You remember this game and was curious to see the child’s reaction.

The man parts his hands, spontaneously making an assortment of silly faces, each one alighting sparks of joy in the little boy’s eyes and smile. The last one makes him burst into adorable giggles, a wonderful response that reached your own face and in the corner of your eye, you can see the man was modestly proud. It was such a positively pure and good moment until the boy’s mother spins around to see the commotion, annoyance apparent on her stern face.

Mother: “Will you stop bothering my kid?”

The man was visibly taken off-guard by this.

Man: “I-I wasn’t botheri-”

Mother: “Just stop!”

At her affirmative and dismissive tone, the little boy retreats back to his seat. You witnessed the whole thing in disbelief. _The man was just being nice!_ There truly was no harm done and thus no need for such callousness. You were about to explain this to the woman until suddenly the man next to you explodes into laughter. Your body tenses at the unexpected sound. The man was practically flying off his seat in hysterical fits.

Mother: “Oh, you think this is funny?”

The woman looked back at the man, swiftly turning from annoyed to angry. The man, still bellowing, shakes his head, his brows creased to a harsh line. He looked like he was ashamed and embarrassed of his behavior right now. He puts a finger up in gesture, asking for a moment to explain and pulls out a card. You managed to steal a quick glance and read it as he hands it over to the mother. Your heart takes a dip and nearly shatters in pity.

_Poor guy. To have such a thing on a card for display, to give others a sense of normalcy like he owes it to them..._

Already you can see the apprehensive look on the mother’s face as she looks down at the card then back up at the man who gave it to her. _Judgement. Worry for her child. **Disgust**._ Her mouth opens before closing all too quickly, almost like she was going scoff at him before facing towards the front, bringing her child closer to her protectively. Meanwhile, the man continues to suffer his fit, the sound of his growingly hoarse voice echoing across the length of the bus. The weight of judgement is palpable and tense, you don’t need to see it in the eyes of the passengers to feel it. Even as they pretend not to notice, you knew. They were willfully ignoring the man like an illness because of his illness.

_Well, fuck that._

You tap on the mother’s shoulder. She looks back at you, tensing at the unexpected touch. She wore a harsh look on her face and you willed yourself not to return it with one of your own. Instead, you donned a passive mask.

You: “You didn’t give him his card back.”

Mother: “What are you on about?”

You: “The card asks you to return it to its owner.”

You make a point to look at the men next to you, purposefully making eye contact with him and offering him a cool grin, before returning your gaze to the woman.

You: “You’re not the owner. Right?”

Under your scrutinizing gaze, the mother squirms in her seat before looking at the ground around her. She apparently dropped the card in question. _Unbelievable._ When she rises back up against the support of her seat, she turns around and offers the card. To you. You shoot her a dubious look.

You: “_**The owner**_, ma’am.”

The mother warily glances at the man’s direction from the side of her eye. The man you were sitting next to was calming down to light coughs and chuckles, his hand covering his mouth as he watches the exchange. When he sees his card, he offers his hand to her, waiting for her to return it to him. She doesn’t move to do so and you could tell it was because she saw him like a disease to avoid at all costs. Growing impatient you snatch it away from her and she retreats her hand, holding it to her chest as if you burned her.

You: “Please, _have a good day._”

That last part was a callback to the card’s print. Instead of waiting for the woman to respond, knowing fully well that her pride will not allow it, you lean back into your seat and not bother sparing her a second glance. With the card in between your fingers, you offer it to the man beside you. He hesitates a moment before taking it back, securing it back into his pocket. He’s calmed down now.

You: “Sorry. Didn’t mean to cause a scene. You okay now?”

He nods. He wills the courage to meet your eyes and you were nearly taken aback by how bright they were. At first, you thought them to be icy grey, but after stealing a moment to look deeper, you noted them to be green. Green and kind, anxious and grateful.

Man: “Thank you.”

You: “What’s your name?”

Man: “Arthur. M-My name is Arthur.”

You give him a friendly smile, holding your hand out for him to take before introducing yourself back. His lips widen to reveal a toothy grin at hearing your name and he shakes your hand in his.

You: “Nice to meet you. Some friendly advice, Arthur. Ditch the card, you don’t need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tooth-aching fluff and self-indulgent social justice mixed in one fic. But god dammit the moment I saw the bus ride scene, I couldn’t help but imagine defending Arthur. Yet I can also see why no one defended him either. Kindness is a rare thing in strangers. But it exists. The reader is a testament of my belief in that.


	3. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine tending to Arthur after he was beaten down by some kids.

Arthur: “Tss!”

You: “Didn’t touch you yet, Arthur.”

Arthur: “Oh, okay... AH!”

You: “That time I did.”

You were only dabbing alcohol against the parts of his back that broke skin. Luckily, there were only scrapes but it skid in patches. Although he was hissing in pain, you both knew it was an exaggeration. Arthur is a rather sturdy man despite appearances and can take a hit. In this case, however, a beating. It wasn’t brutal, but thinking about it again returned the frown on your face.

You: “Can’t believe some deviants did this to you.”

Arthur: “Was just a bunch of kids. They didn’t know better.”

You: “And that makes it okay?”

You stopped tending to his cuts and bruises to give him a hard look. His back was to you but he didn’t need to look at you to see you were angry. His head tipped low, afraid to answer and incur your frustration further. From behind, you can see he was ashamed and disheartened at the thought that he disappointed you. With a sigh, you place the cotton and alcohol aside to lean into him gently, careful not to touch his scratches. With a soft touch, you tuck a lock of his thick, dark hair behind his ear and place a tender kiss to his cheek.

You: “You gotta value yourself more than that, Art.”

Arthur: “Are you mad at me?”

He sounded almost like a child asking this and your heart caved. You sigh.

You: “...No.”

Arthur: “You...you hesitated.”

You: “Arthur...”

You lay your chin upon his good shoulder. That simple physical contact, that intimate gesture of trust and adoration visibly eases his worries and he relaxes a bit.

You: “I just... When you visit, I want you to see me without me having to tend to your cuts and bruises. I want to open my door when you knock and see a happy, goofy smile on your face, not a busted lip. I want to see you and not feel bad anymore.”

A moment passes. Arthur nudged you to sit back up for him to slowly turn in his seat until he was facing you directly. The sight before nearly broke you. Tears were beginning to pool around his beautiful green eyes. You were going to wipe them away before they fell but see him take a deep, calming breath before he grabs both of your hands in his. He hunches over in his seat to lay soft kisses upon your knuckles, to the tips of your fingers, to each of your palms until he makes you hold his face in your hands. He nuzzles against your skin, blissfully relishing this contact. With him like this, he looked incredibly vulnerable and beautiful.

Arthur: “It’s okay. I’ll do better, I promise.”

His voice was so low, you almost didn’t catch his words. By his tone, you caught that he didn’t truly understand what you meant. Instead, it was clear he was blaming himself completely. And you didn’t want that. It wasn’t his fault. You just wanted him to be careful. You wanted him to put himself before others and give himself the confidence that you know he possesses. You wanted to tell him this.

You: “Art-”

He leans forward until his forehead touches yours. His eyes were closed now and although you couldn’t see his face without straining your vision, from the side of your eye you saw a single wet streak fall.

Arthur: “I want you to smile and put on a happy face. For me.”

His body begins to shake. At first, it looks like he was sobbing, choking back his tears. But knowing Arthur personally, you knew he was breaking into one of his fits. For him, he was trying to hard to rein it in. His face contorting in something similar to pain as he struggles to keep himself in check so that he could properly speak to you. Before he loses to his condition completely, he says one last thing to you.

Arthur: “I don’t... Ha... haha...I don’t want to feel...ha heh...so bad anymore either. Haha haha-!”

You wrenched your hands free from his to wrap your arms around him and pull him close. For the longest time, it was just like this. You two embracing each other tightly like you were all each other had while heart-shattering laughter echoed off your walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops. I wrote angst. I really want to write a purely happy ending, but couldn’t ;-; Still, this moment of tenderness was something I can imagine for this man who really deserved better.


End file.
